


for everything that’s lovely is but a brief, dreamy, kind delight

by koroshiyas (lucitae)



Series: never give all the heart, for love [1]
Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-17 07:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13072410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucitae/pseuds/koroshiyas
Summary: There's something in Ong Seongwoo that has always been there and it connects him to Hwang Minhyun.





	for everything that’s lovely is but a brief, dreamy, kind delight

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas!! Originally a longer fic was going to take its place but life happens so we get this to kick start our New Year countdown.
> 
> This drabble was conceived shortly after watching The Last Jedi so spoilers ahead? Maybe? It barely has anything to do with the Star Wars verse spare for terms and concepts (and me ripping off something I don't endorse but wanted to explore in full. Except I didn't because time constraints oh well).

The stone juts out, elevated upon the edge of the cliff, where waves crash with ferocity meters and meters below. The sky is a canvas of sprinkled stars twinkling in the night. There are pebbles scattered across the platform that Seongwoo can’t see clearly in the dark and nearly scrapes his hands on them.

 _This is where the force is the strongest_ , the Master had said, _but no one is allowed to train here until they are strong enough._

Which is an odd thing to say, considering they were all trying to train to gain their connection to the force.

Seongwoo stands at the edge. The wind blows violently, tossing his hair and robes in disarray as he looks at the horizon where the stars meet the sea. There’s a surge of loneliness. An island so far removed from everything but also the most connected. The place that compels one to close their eyes and _believe_.

Like the ones who had brought him here had. Told him he was talented, told him he was meant for great things, before dumping him on this island after picking him up from nowhere — after watching objects hover and oscillate in midair, after watching him rip the gun from their hands in an act of desperation and self perseverance. And yet, despite all their words, all of Seongwoo’s peers have managed to gain some sort of connection with the force as he remained oblivious. The students snickered when they thought he wasn’t listening. Something about a nobody would always remain one. Something about how he should leave before he disgraced the name of the Jedi Order.

Maybe they were right. Why would Ong Seongwoo, of all people, be connected to the Force? Why would an unassuming kid from the middle of nowhere be special? So this is the last attempt. If Seongwoo failed to connect here, where the force was the strongest, then he would leave.

Seongwoo inhales, shakily, before siting down and crossing his legs. He folds his hands in his lap and closes his eyes.

 _Reach out_ the Master had told them time and time again. Seongwoo’s brows furrowed, concentrating.

“Sometimes it helps,” a voice says, disrupting Seongwoo from his trance, “if you reach out physically as well. Helps you guide your mind a bit.”

Seongwoo opens his eyes and meets a pair of eyes that seem to shine as much as the sky above. Hwang Minhyun, his brain supplies after running through the roster of kids, an exemplar in his class that matches the notoriety of his bloodline.

Seongwoo’s tempted to scowl or wave Minhyun off because, really, what is he doing spying on a fellow student? But Minhyun smiles in a way that seems sincere so Seongwoo closes his eyes again and reaches out — fingers brushing against the pebbles.

“What do you see?”

Seongwoo feels like he’s looking through the vantage point of a bird, high above in the sky, circling the island. The clouds are in his periphery. The island lies down far below, surrounded by water. There is nothing else in sight.

“The island,” Seongwoo answers.

There’s a boy trekking his way up the mountain from where he had decided to stargaze. A tall boy with his hair as dark as the night sky and eyes that twinkle like the stars above.

“You.”

There’s a boy meditating at the edge of the cliff, face at peace, a hand reaching out, and fingers pliant against the surface of the rock. Three moles on his cheek.

“Me.”

Tiny buds sprout on barren twigs, blossoming into beautiful flowers, before shedding their petals. Leaves start to grow on the branches. Where a flower used to be flesh envelopes seed and forms a fruit that grows larger as time passes.

“Life.”

The fruit, unplucked, falls to the ground and begins to rot. Worms eat their way through it. Decomposition takes place as it is reduced into nothing.

“Death.”

And the seeds fall upon soil and begin to sprout with the alternation of light and dark. The cycle feeds into one another and starts anew.

“What else do you see?” Minhyun prompts, voice soft.

On the other side of the island, where the waves washes up against the rocky surface, a gaping hole lies at the heart of it.

“A place.” Seongwoo’s brows furrow. “It’s cold.”

Something draws Seongwoo closer. The gaping hole looks like an endless void upon a closer look.

“Empty,” Seongwoo says, “a dark place.”

“Avoid it,” Minhyun says, a tone of urgency underlying it. “Fight it, Seongwoo.”

“I can’t,” Seongwoo says, brows knitting even closer as he gets drawn closer and closer to the edge.

Two fingers rest upon his outstretched hand, shattering his concentration, and he gets thrown off. Seongwoo gasps, looking around his surrounding only to find Minhyun standing a few feet away. He’s back at the edge of the cliff ( as if he ever left ). Seongwoo’s fingers clutch the rock as he climbs back on, trying to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry,” Minhyun says, hanging his head.

Seongwoo shakes his head. “You pulled me back. What is that place?”

Minhyun shrugs. “I’m guessing it’s why Master Cha had told us that we had to wait before training at this spot. Where the light is the strongest so must the darkness to keep things balanced.”

Seongwoo laughs weakly, allowing himself to lie down and stare at the stars from galaxies away. “You sound like a Jedi.”

Minhyun takes two steps forward and Seongwoo makes space for his peer to sit. “I’ve been hearing the same phrases and similar ones since I was a child.” He chuckles, mirthless. “And now I’m sounding like a broken record.”

“How did you find me?” Seongwoo looks over, studying Minhyun’s profile.

“I think,” Minhyun sounds, careful, eyes searching Seongwoo’s to gauge his reactions, “the force connected us somehow. Maybe you called out and I answered.”

“But why?” Seongwoo prompts, lifting himself a bit, settling his head on his arm.

Minhyun lies down beside Seongwoo, staring up at the same sky, humming under his breath for a moment or two with an arm under his head. Perhaps in contemplation. Perhaps trying to gauge how trustworthy Seongwoo is. It doesn’t matter.

“This is all I ever knew, all I ever wanted as a child. So I ran straight forward, never turning back, never pausing for a moment to consider if this was really what I wanted.” Minhyun turns his head, eyes meeting Seongwoo’s as he smiles. “And now that I’m here I wonder if this is right for me.”

“Technically we still have years to go before becoming a jedi,” Seongwoo points out.

Minhyun’s laugh is light, airy, the type that can set one at ease.

“Everyone here,” Minhyun’s says, sincere, “barring unforeseen circumstances will probably become Jedis.”

Seongwoo hums, unconvinced.

Minhyun lets another second or two tick by before he asks: “were you really going to leave if you failed here, today?”

Seongwoo takes a long look at the one before him, contemplating for another moment, remembering how he had divulged with honesty — with a touch of trust Seongwoo doesn’t deserve.

“Yes,” Seongwoo decides in the end. A boy who would trek up the mountain to help another soul couldn’t possibly be bad. “It would be evidence proving them right. That I can’t amount to anything.”

Minhyun turns back to face the sky above. “They’re just jealous,” he says, nonchalant, closing his eyes. It’s a scene so serene Seongwoo can almost imagine him being in touch with the force again. “Scared.” Another pause. “Blood lines are important and all but they diminish over time. Weaken. The connection with the force isn’t something inherited. It’s a bond, after all.”

Minhyun opens his eyes then, glancing in Seongwoo’s direction. They are clear, unwavering, like a stream you can see the bottom of. There’s not a trace of doubt. Just faith.

Seongwoo inhales, sharply. “How do you know?”

Minhyun smiles, wry. “I used to be like that. Afraid, I mean. Unable to follow my family’s footsteps and then where would I be?”

“It took me a lot of training to get here.”

“Before… was that…?”

Minhyun nods. “I remember the first time I truly felt the Force, I cried.” He smiles, genuine, gentle.

Seongwoo returns it in full. “I feel like crying too,” he admits, to no one in particular, barely audible.

There’s a hand that finds his — tentative, uncertain — fingers slipping into the palm of his hand, wrapping around it, giving it a small squeeze. Seongwoo thinks of that odd sensation that has always been within him, lingering in the back of his mind, flaring when he least expects it. How the unknown had left him scared for so long. And now… Finally…

The fingers rub soothing circles into his hand. The tears fall freely, reflecting the sparkling of the night sky.

 

 

✵ ✵ ✵

 

 

“You don’t have to do this,” Minhyun says, robes fluttering in the wind as he stands before Seongwoo, sleep still barely rubbed from his eyes.

The sky above are sprinkled carelessly with stars not unlike that night where they first held a proper conversation five years ago.

“You’re not here to stop me,” Seongwoo says as a matter of fact.

“No,” Minhyun admits, smile sheepish but his eyes seem more fragile than Seongwoo has ever seen. “I still wanted to try.”

“How did you know?” His fist tightens around the handle of the sole bag Seongwoo owns.

“Because I know you,” Minhyun answers easily but it is not what Seongwoo is looking for. He picked the dead of the night, the day anyone would least expect it and yet here Minhyun stands — between everything. “Something woke me up. Like a gust of wind.” He tilts his head and smiles then, amused. “Maybe it knew I had things to say.”

Seongwoo clenches his fists.

“We’ve come so far Seongwoo-ah,” Minhyun begins again. “You could leave tomorrow after we become—”

“That’s precisely why I have to leave today,” Seongwoo replies, nails biting into flesh, reminding himself not to waver. “You felt it too.”

“There’s something else I’m meant to do. Something else that calls for me.” Seongwoo uses his free hand to point out into the horizon, into the ocean with its crashing waves, into the endless space. “You felt it too,” Seongwoo repeats once more.

The lack of response is admittance. Seongwoo takes a step closer.

And another.

And another.

Minhyun’s eyes are dark in this lighting so different from how they are with the center hearth burning in that shared space. Dark not unlike the cold abyss where the waves meet a rocky cavern, but with a stronger pull  — a stronger force that almost compels Seongwoo to

“I’ll miss you.” The words come out soft, quiet. A thought hidden deep within brought to the surface. An admittance that Seongwoo’s own heart echoes.

Seongwoo reaches for Minhyun’s hand. And Minhyun lets him. There’s a hint of melancholy in those eyes and Seongwoo takes it in stride.

“I’ll be here,” Seongwoo says, placing their hands over Minhyun’s chest, hovering over where the heart resides.

“It’s not the same.”

“What connects us now will still connect us then.” Seongwoo gives Minhyun’s hand a careful squeeze.

The smile that forms upon Minhyun’s lip is small but he returns the gesture. “Promise me you’ll visit.”

Seongwoo pulls their intertwined hands towards him. “Of course,” he says, lips brushing against Minhyun’s knuckles, eyes watching him the entire time.

“May the force be with you,” Seongwoo says when he lets go, “always.”

 

 

✵ ✵ ✵

 

 

 

Seongwoo sits up. A familiar sensation compels him to sit up. The same one that has always been there. But this time it’s different.

Minhyun stands there, hands clasped behind his back, taking in Seongwoo’s surroundings.

For a moment Seongwoo sees Minhyun’s as well. The same island they’ve spent most of their lives on, watching the water spray its white foam from where the waves crash against rocks.

“Where are you?”

“An outpost in Al Torr. A once glorious planet, rich with resources that have since been depleted due to political instability. Money is needed to fund war after all.”

Minhyun nods at the bunker that seems to be made of concrete and frowns. “Do you need…?”

“No.” Seongwoo shakes his head quickly. “It’ll cause more chaos if an organization butts its head into affairs. And haven’t we learned that”

“Trying to impose systems only backfires.” Minhyun nods, smile forming on his lips as he finishes Seongwoo’s sentences. “But still…”

Seongwoo shakes his head again, choosing to change the topic. “How long has it been?”

“Long enough for your hair to have grown out,” Minhyun comments, fingers touching the ends of Seongwoo’s hair. Seongwoo flinches in surprise. The connection is so bizarre. Seongwoo can’t hear Minhyun’s footsteps but can feel that brief touch.

“Two hundred and forty one days,” Seongwoo replies, hushed, like the information was dragged out of him.

Minhyun laughs, voice teasing when he says: “well someone has been keeping track.”

And Seongwoo prays Minhyun doesn’t see the twinge of embarrassment that floods his cheeks. The way Minhyun’s grin brightens tells him otherwise.

“Like you haven’t,” Seongwoo mutters in return.

“I have,” Minhyun admits. “Only to see how long it takes before you return.”

“Petty,” Seongwoo remarks before laughing. Minhyun joins him.

 

 

159 days later, Minhyun finds Seongwoo in the midst of a battle on the planet of Qetesh. Inconvenient timing until Minhyun decided to fight with Seongwoo back to back. Well, mostly just call out points of weakness and points of attack, keeping Seongwoo safe from a laser blast.

 

 

 

131 days later, on the planet of Ortan, Minhyun tries to help Seongwoo figure out a way to connect with the inhabitants. _Advanced_ , Seongwoo had explained, running a hand through his hair in frustration, _which is fine and everything if they didn’t live at the bottom of the sea!_ And Minhyun had tried to stay connected for as long as he could on the sandy beach, trying to help Seongwoo develop and project.

 

 

 

97 days later, Minhyun keeps Seongwoo company on the planet of Nucta as another blizzard blows over. Seongwoo is wrapped in layers and still shivering despite being underground and indoors in the weather. There are a handful of individuals with him as well. All trying to keep warm and for the storm to pass over. _A normal occurance_ , Seongwoo had said, _happens far too often_. The smile is small, mirthless, mostly pained due to empathy. _Sometimes the supplies get so low…_ he had whispered when everyone had fallen deep into sleep, _I feel bad for depleting it further_.

 

 

✵ ✵ ✵

 

 

It has been 46 days since their last encounter. Minhyun frowns, staring at Seongwoo who toys with the golden gilded bird that sits on his shelf.

“I can’t see your surroundings,” he remarks, careful. Brows furrowing and lips pursing as he tries to reach out but comes back with nothing.

“I can see yours,” Seongwoo replies. He smiles easily. A gut feeling tells Minhyun there’s something being hidden from him.

“You’ve gotten stronger,” Minhyun says instead, a tone of appreciation, a tone of pride.

“And you’ve gotten a promotion,” Seongwoo notes with an enthusiastic grin, gesturing at the pristine white decoration of a room that certainly doesn’t exist on the island they used to reside on.

Minhyun waves it off. “Just a new post.”

“On a different planet. They are treating you well.”

Minhyun snorts before moving to sit on his bed. He pats the space beside him. “Tell me about your travels.”

It doesn’t take much to convince Seongwoo. Not then. Not now. So he joins Minhyun, eagerness unable to be kept from surfacing.

 

When Seongwoo opens his eyes again he’s back at the ship where he’s being held. Crowded. Prisoners all crammed in like sardines. Wrists and ankles chained. Housed at the lowest level of the vessel where the air isn’t ventilated. Stale. Small mercies come in the guise of no one dying and filling up the air with the stench.

His stomach grumbles. He can’t remember the last time he ate something that wasn’t the disgusting crumbs thrown at them.

Was it really just five days ago since he was sold out?

Seongwoo leans back, head resting against cold iron as he closes his eyes. Grateful that Minhyun hadn’t been able to see any of this.

 _When are you going to visit me?_ Minhyun had asked like always, towards the very end of their conversation.

 _Soon_ , Seongwoo had replied like he always had. An empty promise but a promise that held a flicker of hope nonetheless.

 _Promise me_ , Minhyun had said. There was a desperate edge to it. Both of which Seongwoo were not used to nor expected. So he reached out and linked his pinky with Minhyun’s, sealing it.

Seongwoo stares at his hand. The touch still lingers. Still burns. He tries to imprint it into his memory, keep it there for as long as he can.

 

 

✵ ✵ ✵

 

 

“You don’t ask me to visit anymore,” Seongwoo remarks one day. The sun is warm on his face. The nightmare has been over for 2 months but sometimes he still remembers the fight for survival, crushing the weaker ones under your feet just to see the next day, and all the cheers from the crowds when someone bleeds into ground with their skin flayed open and eyes glassy.

The sun is warm on his face. He’s alive. Millions of light years away from the one person he wants to see but he’s alive at least.

Minhyun smiles. Soft. The way Seongwoo remembers when he screws his eyes shut when the screams of agony are particularly unbearable that night.

He’s alive. So is Minhyun.

“Because I saw your future,” Minhyun says with conviction, “when we made our promise. You came back to me.”

Seongwoo smiles, praying its more convincing than what he feels inside. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Minhyun reaches for him then. And Seongwoo lets him. Minhyun’s hand finds his — tentative, uncertain — fingers slipping into the palm of his hand, wrapping around it, giving it a small squeeze.

“I’ll wait for you.” Is all he says.

The connection drops and Seongwoo stares at the empty space.

He closes his eyes, fingers circling around the hand no longer there, forming a fist.

Seongwoo had seen Minhyun’s future as well. Back on that vessel where pinkies were linked and thumbs pressed against each other for a promise that could no longer remain empty after that gesture. In it, he had seen his return and how Minhyun bled out in his arms. The crimson staining the robes, crusting underneath his nails as Seongwoo's voice grows hoarse from all the pleading. Minhyun shushes him then, hand cupping his cheeks, marking him one last time before those eyes shut never to reflect the stars again.

“I’m sorry,” Seongwoo says, voice breaking,hoping the Force will carry it across space and across time, “I can’t keep our promise anymore.”


End file.
